


Masquerade Madness

by bravevesperian



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Anal Sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Drunkenness, Fluri, Hair-pulling, M/M, Masks, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Ritual Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, arguably demisexual Flynn, deception as seduction, flynn/yuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 14:55:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16494809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravevesperian/pseuds/bravevesperian
Summary: At an annual festival (inspired by the pagan festivals of old), Yuri spots Flynn and gives into his hidden desires, expecting to be recognized immediately. When Flynn remains in the dark, he can't help but try to find out the truth. Are the feelings he's hidden and suppressed for years reciprocated?





	Masquerade Madness

**Author's Note:**

> Tis the season. I'll stan pent-up-closet-top-Flynn until I die.

The night had settled over the Lower Quarter with a festive sort of weight. It was time for masquerade, for the passing of souls as the year turned to the cold season. Yuri had helped out as the community had struggled for new ways to winterize the plumbing now that blastia weren't really an option. There were going to be issues either way, he was sure. He felt like he was definitely starting to get old if he was excited about _plumbing_. 

Yuri realized then, that maybe that was just how things were in times of peace. Something so mundane was exciting. It meant that the people could continue to celebrate at times like these.

He didn't much care for the dressing up part, though he'd looked on with envy at the fanciful dress of the nobility down in the bottoms, mingling with everyone else for that one night of the year when he was a kid. There were fanciful masks, plenty shaped to look like monsters that Yuri could remember fighting. His own was a bit piecemeal and consisted of a paper mache wolve's head decorated with real fur that he'd bought from a merchant. The rest was just a cloak, his hair pulled back and hidden though the lower half of his face was mostly visible. 

Festivals were a good time to forget, and at this wake of the spirits Yuri had spent plenty of time getting ready to do just that-- maybe a little early. He'd already had a few pints before he'd made it to the central square where the well and its fountain-- now run by a pump instead of a blastia-- sat surrounded by a crush of revelers. Some faces were familiar even under their masks, and others he couldn't place. 

Repede went about his own business as usual, but Yuri couldn't help following him weaving through the crowd. The movement led his eyes to a man in white formal wear, a heavily brocaded cape hanging from his shoulders. At first glance, he blended in perfectly well with the nobles he was standing with, one with pink hair and a rather ostentatious cat costume playing with the local children as though she didn't mind the dirt. Estelle. And her knight in shining armor with his fake crown and mask of white and gold feathers was as obvious as he could be. Repede sat heavily on the ground near her, trying to feign disinterest.

Flynn stood next to the would-be-Empress, tugging uncomfortably at his collar as though he were hot despite the evening chill. His eyes watched his charge sharply even though Yuri had the distinct feeling that he wasn't even supposed to be working. It was well known that he couldn't leave his job at work, but in Yuri's somewhat inebriated state he was more awash with a vague sense of jealousy than concern. He knew there was nothing between Flynn and Estelle, but seeing them like this-- dressed to match and looking all the shining light of hope they were meant to be, he couldn't help but feel a sinking sensation in his gut. 

It wasn't like him-- but with his defenses lowered, looking at Flynn like this made him suddenly think of everything he couldn't have; everything that he denied himself day in and day out. For a moment, _Yuri wanted to be selfish_. 

He watched Flynn like the wolf he was dressed as while he followed after Estelle like a mother hen. It was extra pointless, as there was someone else watching the princess. With eyes like those on her, the little Mad Scientist would make sure anyone that tried anything was burned to a crisp in a second. Yuri would've thought Rita's costume was cool if he wasn't so fixated on his own goal. 

As Flynn shuffled through the thick crowd, Yuri slipped in step behind him. Everyone knew what adults did at events like this-- it was no secret what the masks and fertility effigies were for. Though he was a bit clumsy in his movements, Yuri reached out and took Flynn's hand in his. The Commandant froze and whirled, but didn't manage to yank his hand away before Yuri pressed some brightly wrapped sweets into his palm, a smirk on his lips. The symbolic nature of giving a favor was, between adults, a question of availability and desire.

Flynn looked at him open mouthed and Yuri turned his face just slightly, hoping that his mask obscured his eyes enough for them not to be recognizable. He lowered his voice, disguising it with a low, gravelly growl at the last minute for lack of a better plan. It was Flynn's stupid, glassy gaze that made him realize with something akin to glee that the straight-and-narrow Commandant of the Imperial Knights had also been drinking. He must've been given a few for free-- it was the only time he ever touched the stuff, and only because it'd be impolite to refuse. 

Yuri had a feeling he might have to thank Raven later. An awful concept, really. 

"S-Sir?" Flynn's confusion and disbelief was clear even behind his winged mask. 

"Pretty swan prince: How could you dress like that and not expect someone to give you a favor?" Yuri asked in is low, affected voice. It was going to make his throat sore if he wasn't careful but-- oh well. 

"I... um. I guess. No I didn't expect." He trailed off, his speech slow but not quite as slurred as Yuri's own. 

"You into it or not? You're the most beautiful guy here, and trust me-- I've been lookin'." Yuri managed after a moment, his breath catching in his throat a little more than he wanted it to. 

Traditionally, no one was to ask about names and faces and identities, but it was clear that that ache of recognition was dancing right on the edges of Flynn's consciousness already. He was sure he knew this guy from somewhere but... where? What if he was some enemy come back from the dead? No, impossible--

But he was low on inhibitions, and the thought of being wanted was a lot nicer than Flynn would like to admit. He spent so much time polishing his image, so much time trying to seem untouchable that he had denied and pretended to be oblivious towards nearly every advance or offer of touch he had received in well... years. Tonight was a night where none of it mattered. It couldn't reflect on him; it hardly ever did for anyone on this one night, anyway. And besides, gods forgive him, this stranger kind of reminded him of Yuri. 

The Commandant hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He then he took the hand outstretched to him and jammed the candy into his pocket. Flynn didn't try to look into the other man's eyes, as he was too ashamed of his own choice. Yuri couldn't believe that he hadn't been found out yet. 

Yuri pulled Flynn through the crowd, snickering when they stumbled and bumped into each other. There was a flow of people moving for the alleys and various establishments-- some had provided terribly impersonal tents lining the narrow cobblestone path for those seeking privacy though it did little for the sounds coming from inside of them. Yuri headed for one with its entryway standing open, signifying it was unoccupied, but Flynn dug his heels in a bit, looking displeased. 

"Wait." Yuri stopped, a wolfish grin to match his persona on his face. 

"Ah, right. You noble types don't do it this way. Don't like the idea of the drunkards in the Lower Quarter hearing you _sing_?" Yuri knew he was pulling punches he didn't need to, but he couldn't help but wonder how Flynn would react. 

"N-no! I... Look, there's one right there." He was someone who could get a room even at the inflated prices charged during Masquerade-- He knew this, but the moment that the challenge was issued, he was suddenly the one leading Yuri by the hand. 

"-- And what makes you think I'm going to be the one singing?" That took Yuri by surprise, and as he got all but dragged into the pavilion that Flynn had noted at the far end of the narrow alley, he almost lost his footing. 

Yuri had planned on being the hunter tonight, but the moment his knees hit the dusty old mattress in the back of the tent, Flynn was on him.

Their kisses were rough and tasted like liquor, the shallow breaths of drunkenness heightening the high of the moment. There was the occasional unpleasant roughness as their masks pressed and rubbed together-- but it was mostly easy to ignore. From somewhere down the alley, a peel of laughter turned into a lewd moan, and Flynn grimaced. Yuri snorted, trying to hide the sound of his own amusement. 

Flynn frowned, again certain that he thought this stranger was indeed familiar-- and he began to hope against hopes that he was right in his vague, barely formed assumption. Would Yuri really approach someone like this, though? He would never forgive himself if he could remember what he'd thought at all in the morning. There was no way Yuri could think of him like this, no way that he'd allow any sort of advancement like this--

"What do you want me to call you, pretty boy?" Yuri managed against Flynn's kiss-swollen lips. 

"Uh... Nothing. Don't worry about it." Flynn didn't want to think, least of all about coming up with an alias. 

That did make Yuri laugh a little and he had to bite his tongue as Flynn pressed against him, grinding against the curve of his ass. He was already starting to get hard, and he found himself amazed that prim-and-proper Flynn could get like this. He was really riled up-- and Yuri only hesitated when that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach came back to remind him that Flynn wasn't even really with him per se-- just a charming stranger. 

Yuri felt him pushing up the hem of his costume cloak, going for the waistband of his trousers beneath, and in his drunken stupor Yuri was more than happy to let it happen. He hummed in something of a low purr and lifted his hips easily to help Flynn peel them down around his thighs. Good enough. 

"I... I don't want you to call me anything. So it won't matter what name I want to say... right?" Despite his downright hungry actions, Flynn seemed unsure. Yuri, forgetting any pretense of acting rolled a shoulder, shifting under his mask where it was digging into the ridge of his nose a bit. 

"Yeah, it's cool." He was curious, anyway. 

Yuri struggled not to get swallowed up by all of the fabric being pushed up over him, and was more than a little relieved when Flynn grabbed him and flipped him onto his back. At some point, he had taken the silk and velvet cape that was attached to his costume off and laid it down over the rougher, likely used woven blankets left in the tent. It was a surprisingly sweet and tender gesture, though honestly Yuri expected nothing less of Flynn. 

He had to fight to keep his hair from falling out of the hood or being overly obvious, but on his back it was easier for it to blend in with the fabric of his cloak. Flynn had at some point, unbuttoned his slacks and pulled himself free. Yuri attempted to start to squirm out of his boots so he could pull a leg free but Flynn growled and just pushed his legs back, knees almost to his chest. It was a stretch but for someone like him-- not even all that uncomfortable. A languid, wicked smile curled onto his face and Yuri found he wasn't really interested in pretending anymore. 

"Oh? You have a thing for boots and leggings or something?" He asked. 

Something hitched in Flynn's gaze, bright and glassy with lust and drunkenness as he gazed down at the stranger beneath him, fumbling for what was one of several partially used bottles of lubricant left behind by previous visitors to this particular tent. They were being sold for pennies at virtually every vendor if you asked, and no one seemed to want to carry something like that around after the fact-- 

Yuri's breath caught at the sensation of thick, cool, oil dripping down between his thighs, and if he didn't know better he'd say that Flynn was watching the display with a kind of desire he wasn't sure he'd ever seen on his face. It was a prelude to the sudden lack of patience he seemed to have, hands pushing up under Yuri's shirt as if he was actively trying to _find_ something. 

The fabric peeled back further and further, though Yuri squirmed and protested as the Commandant's cock slid slick between his thighs. He had expected to be immediately fucked and rather roughshod at that-- but suddenly, the calloused fingertips he knew so well were creeping over his stomach and chest and then back down again, searching in earnest. 

" _Fuck_ ," The curse of protest came from his lips without him realizing it, and Flynn let out a giddy, wild bark of laughter as his fingers found exactly what they were searching for, running over the bit of skin greedily. 

On Yuri's right side, was a thick rope of scarring about the width of the blade of a knife. It was newer, from some point after or during the incident at Zaude, though he didn't know its exact origin. All that mattered was that he was suddenly no longer fucking a stranger, and was no longer going to be calling a stranger Yuri's name as he shamefully got off to the thought. 

"Oh gods," Flynn reached up and all but ripped his own mask off, a look of panic and distress on his face. 

His handsome features weren't lost in the dark, especially not now that Yuri's eyes had adjusted. "Yuri, stop, we can't--" 

Well, there it was. Yuri had stopped thinking that it was anything but a bit of play between them until that moment, and he lazily reached up, pulling his mask up so that the wolf's jaw sat upon his head. 

"Man, why'd you have to go and break character? We were almost to the good part." He said, considerably more sober now than when they had started this little dance. 

"Just. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize. I've had. A few drinks and. Shit, _is this going to make things weird_ \--?" Flynn babbled uselessly. He looked miserable, as though he'd done something utterly unforgivable. Yuri reached up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him down closer to a muffled sound of surprised. 

"A little late to ask about things being weird, our dicks are touching." Yuri observed matter-of-factly. 

" ** _Yuri_**!" Flynn admonished him in the exact same tone he always used when they were younger and he'd get caught rule breaking when they were enlisted together-- a rise in pitch, and the two syllables of his name pronounced separately with a tone of disbelief and shock that he personally relished. 

"C'mon, Flynn-- I know you wanna fuck me." Flynn's face burned with shame, but Yuri was on a mission now. He was sick of this game they'd been playing-- maybe for years. Since their formative years, since they should've been giving in to their every urge and the magnetism and hormones between them-- but like the girls back in the infantry had said: _Flynn was too much of a prude_. Yuri knew that wasn't true: He was just a bundle of stress, and getting over that hurdle was what he needed more than anything. 

If Yuri had to be the lascivious temptress to get him there, he would. 

"Yuri, don't. Don't joke about this. Anything but this." Flynn said, his face falling. 

Yuri pulled him closer, trying to be comforting as he passed his hand back through his hair. "Why would I be joking? You think I picked you out of the crowd just to go home without a good-luck fuck?" 

"P-People pick people they don't know on Masque night all the time." 

"You think I didn't immediately recognize you in your shining white fake silk? Flynn, you're not very subtle."

"Wait-- you... you knew it was me? _All along_?" Flynn pulled back, his expression something completely unreadable now. 

Yuri was sure he'd really stepped in it for all of two seconds. "Wait... you _didn't_ know it was me?" 

That threw him a bit. He'd thought Flynn would've recognized him by the time they were alone in the ally if not before. He had really hoped they were just playing some game. 

"I... I hoped." But Flynn hated guessing games. He never made a call unless he was certain. 

"You were just going to fuck a stranger and _pretend it was me_ , weren't you?" Yuri asked, a low and dangerous edge to his voice. 

Well, on some level he supposed that was better. Much better for Flynn and his career and well-- everything-- if that was what he was up to. Wanting Yuri was a terrible thing for Flynn, he was sure of it. For a moment, he wished that Sodia had succeeded in her attempt on his life. Maybe he'd be over it by now. Maybe she would've been there to comfort him, the perfect knight that he needed.

Maybe it wasn't Yuri's place to make those choices for Flynn at all. Maybe that was where he'd gone wrong all along. There was no dancing around it, flirting and touching and feeling each others' pulse racing only to pull away and pretend it wasn't happening. 

"I'm... I'm so sorry." That was to say: Yes, he was planning on fucking a stranger while wishing it was his best friend-- and that now he felt utterly terrible about it. 

"It's totally unethical to call strangers by my name when you could just fuck me." Yuri said, feeling that the edge of his wit was falling short. Something about the moment had become heavy, but he didn't know what to do about it. 

"You're right." Flynn said softly, though it seemed as if he'd missed the last part. 

Yuri rolled his eyes, and reached up once more to yank him down. "Do you want it or not? Are you just gonna leave me like this? How plain do I have to say it? I want you Flynn, I've wanted you for years, and if you want me too please, for the love of everything, don't walk away because of some stupid, pious inner knight's code." 

_He was convincing. Gods, he was--_

Flynn reached up, knocking aside the hard shell that was the mask, his fingertips passing into the thick inky darkness of Yuri's hair. The way he looked up at him was too much to handle, too much-- everything was. Flynn didn't even recognize his own voice as a soft whimper was pulled from his parted lips as Yuri's hand slipped between them, gripping both of their forgotten erections in his fist. 

Some of the confidence he'd had at the start had clearly bled out of him, and Yuri didn't need Flynn losing his nerve now. 

"Fuck me Flynn. If I can only have it one night of the year, at least let me have that." 

A stream of curses very unbefitting the Commandant of the Imperial Knights left Flynn's mouth. 

"Shut up." That wasn't the response he'd expected, but suddenly Flynn was grabbing a handful of his hair and pitching his head back to expose his throat. Yuri moaned and shuddered as Flynn's teeth scraped his skin, pinching enough that he knew it was going to leave a mark. 

Yuri squirmed beneath him and lost his composure entirely as Flynn began to thrust into the tight grip he had around them. Just when he thought he understood where this was going, Flynn pulled away and pushed him away roughly. For a moment, Yuri thought he might actually be going to walk away, but then he found himself roughly turned onto his stomach, his face buried against the plush velvet lining of the costume cape Flynn had been wearing and the thin mattress beneath it. 

Something had come over the Commandant, and suddenly Yuri was wondering if he shouldn't have been the one dressed as a wolf. Being ridiculously attracted to Yuri Lowell was an affliction-- but even that hadn't ever driven him to this level of desire and action. Flynn had always been a bastion of self control. It was just one night of the year, he told himself. 

The slick friction of the soft skin between Yuri's legs, still slick from the oil he'd applied before was enough to drive him crazy. There was no need to hold back when he'd spent years doing just that. 

Gripping Yuri's hips, he greedily pushed inside of him and sank in until his hips pressed flush against the soft curve of Yuri's ass. Something that was almost a sob left him, a sort of sated relief he didn't have words for washing over him as the sensation of finally fully burying himself inside of Yuri. A fluid roll of the hips answered him as Yuri shuddered and sighed. 

Flynn was grateful for the overabundance of that oily stuff all over the place as he slid his calloused hands through it and wrapped his fingers around Yuri's cock. He watched the play of his muscles quivering in his thighs and back, the pretty strain of his arms as he held himself up. Flynn denied him what he was seeking though, and remained deep inside of him while he jerked Yuri off with a sort of precision that seemed as though he could nearly read his mind. 

"How many years... d'd you spend imagining this--" Yuri sneered at him over his shoulder. 

"I'll show you everything I learned from my imagining of you..." Flynn said, his voice low and almost threatening. 

The movements of his hand were swift and fluid, and he could feel Yuri's muscles start to coil tighter and tighter, quivering in a way that he knew from his own body meant that he was already thinking of wanting to cum. Too bad. 

His movements stopped abruptly, fingers clamping down around the base of Yuri's cock as he began to fuck into him instead, thrusting so hard and rapidly that he heard his teeth knock together. A wicked grin broke out on his features as Yuri let out a wild, keening sound that he was sure the entire alley heard. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum--" Yuri hissed, and Flynn gripped him tighter. 

Flynn had never been quite so pleased with himself as he was when he felt Yuri tense and quiver, knowing full well the bewilderment and subsequent near addictive realization of the fact that even for a man, there were more than one kind of orgasm that one might experience. 

He knew exactly what it felt like-- that Yuri's mind was going into overdrive trying to understand his body's wildly thrumming desires; that he had definitely just orgasmed, but was still so hard it hurt and desperate for release. 

"What are you _doing_ to me?" He asked, an airy laugh in his tone as he bounced back against Flynn's punishing thrusts. 

"Fucking your brains out," Flynn responded sharply. 

Things like this, basically considered forbidden or lost knowledge to some were things that someone like Flynn had learned all on his own. It was something that came with the territory of being terribly pent-up and having only oneself to find any kind of release in. He immediately found that using his own techniques on _Yuri instead_ \-- was infinitely more fulfilling. 

Being inside of him was a dream-- and one that he had indulged on countless nights when he should've been getting the best out of his precious time for sleep. Now, all of that imagination could become real; even if it was just this once. Even if it was just this ill-planned night of debauchery that they'd try to never speak of, try to just call a result of the festival spirit or something--

No, Yuri wasn't going to have that. He wasn't stupid, and he was a far-cry from the prudish nature that he and their fellow knights had once thought that Flynn had. Yuri had spent his time pining in much more destructive ways and indulgences, and he still couldn't get his mind around Flynn being so this good at this. 

Flynn draped himself over Yuri, the bulk of his well-muscled form all but encompassing him as he slowed his erratic movements to something more rhythmic and torturous. Yuri was shivering beneath him, and he could feel his cock twitch with each movement. 

"Let me know when you're close again," He intoned and Yuri snapped his head up, breathless with a look of disbelief on his face. 

'Again--?" As if whatever he'd just experienced wasn't enough and yet-- he could indeed feel himself winding closer again, edged back by Flynn's refusal to let him cum properly. Why did Flynn have to continue to prove yet again, that he truly was better at everything than Yuri?

He was glad he couldn't think; in retrospect, he might have found the time to get angry. Yuri had forgotten about anything and everything save for the sound of skin against skin, and the little groans and gasps falling from his own lips. His head lolled forward as he arched his back, his hair cascading from his back down to hang around his shoulders like a veil, and he wondered when he'd lost both his shirt and his cloak.

Flynn stopped and pulled out suddenly, leaving him breathless and wanting. A moment later, something hot and wet flooded over Yuri's lower back in spurts. He was disappointed he could barely make out Flynn's muffled groans, something he wanted to chisel and burn into his memory for a lifetime. 

"Damn, you're almost predictable, Flynn. Wanna cum on my face, next time?" It came out sounding sarcastic, but Yuri was only asking an honest question. 

"Y'know, I think that you like getting punished. That's why you do all of the shit that you do," Flynn said lowly and reached out to shove Yuri over onto his side. He rolled languidly, looking up at his partner with the full knowledge that the mess he'd made was now sinking into the plush fabric of his cape. That'd be a pain to wash out. 

Flynn reached out and yanked at the waistband of Yuri's tights, pulling one leg free despite the bulk of his boot trying to stop it. "Oooh, is that it? You know me better than anyone, so I guess it's fair to think you've got me figured out." 

He almost told him to shut up again, but Flynn knew just as well as Yuri did that all of his needling just egged him on. He caught Yuri staring, as though he was surprised he was still hard, eyes locked onto the juncture between his legs as though he'd never seen him before. "I'm going to make you beg for it." 

Flynn losing his composure like that was almost enough to do it for him on its own. He reached out and pushed Yuri's thighs apart before he dipped down and, still keeping that vicious grip on the base of his cock, sucked Yuri into his mouth. This time, it was Yuri's turn to let out a string of unintelligible curses, and he ignored the sound of laughing and shuffling from outside, knowing that people could hear him.

He pulsed and ached, desperate for the release that Flynn kept chasing him away from as his tongue dragged along his length. He'd forgotten about his desire to stay quiet, to have some kind of sense of shame entirely. Yuri was coming undone, shaking under Flynn's touches. He couldn't take his eyes off of the sight of Flynn's head between his thighs. 

"Don't stop--" A breathy, desperate whisper got Yuri exactly the opposite as Flynn abruptly pulled away. He looked down at the wet, glistening pink of the cock he'd just been so intently working and trailed a finger down it lightly. He watched Yuri squirming, hips bucking and realized how much he'd been missing-- how much he'd been holding back. Things like this might have been the only way he could exert some control over Yuri's wild personality. In these moments, Yuri could be his. 

"Did I do something to piss you off? Are you making me suffer on purpose?" Yuri's hands gripped at the crushed velvet beneath him, his breath coming in low shudders. 

Something else had passed over Flynn's expression, just as strange and dangerous as whatever had been there before. He settled between Yuri's thighs and pushed his legs back. 

"You're so beautiful," Flynn whispered as he pushed back inside and held Yuri tight against him. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Yuri wished he could have gotten Flynn out of his costume so he could touch him, but the conscious act of thinking became too difficult. He clung to the white silk and linen jacket, legs clamped tight around angular hips. 

"Sh-shut up." Yuri answered, though he only protested from the deep satisfaction that he got from hearing Flynn saying something like that. He hated that he was realizing now how much time they had wasted, how much time they could've spent lost in each other if only their prides hadn't gotten in the way. 

How many times were they going to tell each other to shut up?

Curled tight around Flynn's familiar form, Yuri felt like he really was going to burst. Every thrust drove him higher, long hair sticking to his sweat-slicked throat and shoulders. He was so wound up that it only took a few merciful strokes of Flynn's hand to finally send him over the edge. 

"Just like that," Yuri encouraged, though he ignored Flynn's request from before.

His muscles tightened and he threw his head back with a keening sound he wasn't entirely sure he actually knew how to make. Yuri was almost embarrassed at the amount of cum that splashed onto his chest, running up towards his neck to pool in the hollow of his throat. He would've complained about it getting in his hair if he could think at all. 

 

"You're beautiful. Yuri, you're gorgeous, fuck--" And with that, Flynn thrust inside him again, frozen for a few moments before rocking his hips to ride out his orgasm inside of Yuri's tight heat. 

"You're so damned sentimental, Flynn." Yuri said darkly, but lost his nerve to fight when Flynn dipped down and dragged his tongue through the mess of Yuri's cum on his chest. "What the hell. Tell me again why you let everybody in the Knights believe you were a total prude?"

"I hate that word," He started, voice low and husky. "And they weren't you, Yuri." 

Flynn regretted saying it almost immediately, his thoughts turning as bitter as the taste in his mouth. 

Yuri's hand, a bit shaky but firm, came up and touched Flynn's cheek. In the dark, he tried to redirect those ocean blue eyes back to him. Shame didn't suit Flynn one bit. 

"I'm so selfish. I can't stand myself. I egged you on into this... and it's something-- something I should never have let myself want." Flynn watched him in silence as he tried to apologize without saying he was sorry; one of those quintessential Yuri things. 

"You're selfish? I should've said something the moment I thought it might be you. I... I _hoped_. God, I'm awful. I'm disgusting. I've wanted you for so long, and. Does this ruin everything?" 

"...Does it? Do you want it to?" Yuri asked him, the sounds of the ongoing revelry only then starting to come back to him, as if his connection to Flynn had pushed everything out of his mind.

"No. I. I don't know what I want. We can't... " Flynn gestured vaguely with one hand, the other still propping him up over Yuri's prone form.

"Can't what? Are you going to say we can't be together because of pomp and circumstance? We were born basically down the street from each other, Flynn-- or did you forget you're a pauper, too?" Yuri didn't mean to sound so cold, but he hated feeling as though Flynn had moved beyond him, even though he knew it was inevitable. 

"I... I don't know. Look, I don't know anything." He answered miserably. 

"It's simple, Flynn. We've always been together sometimes... even when we didn't see each other for months at a time. That's not new or changing. I don't deserve you, but damn do I want you." Yuri answered. 

"You want me?"

"Are you stupid or just still too drunk to hear me?" 

Flynn gave Yuri a shove in typical fashion, but didn't manage much with him flat on his back. It drew a snort from him, and a little of the gloom lifted as Flynn finally tried to disentangle himself from Yuri's limbs to at least make himself somewhat decent. Yuri joined him in redressing if only because it felt weird to do nothing. 

"I hear you. I just... Yuri, don't say you don't deserve me again." Flynn said. "I want you by my side. I keep asking you to come back to the knights-- it's not because I want you to have a career or change who you are. It's because I want you to.. to be close to me." 

Yuri smiled and laughed a little. "Then keep improving the relationship between the Empire and the Guilds. You always have a place with Brave Vesperia." 

"It's... not a bad move, you know." He said quietly, helping Yuri get back into his leggings when they snagged on his boot. 

"Huh? What isn't?" Yuri looked up at him, trying not to wince at how sore and bone-tired he felt. 

"You want to improve the relationship between the Empire and the Guilds. Between Zaphias and Dahngrest." Flynn mused. 

"Yeah, but this is supposed to be pillow talk, not a forum on the current state of politics." He teased gently. 

Flynn tried not to lose his nerve the way that Yuri's dismissal often could make him do. "I mean... The leader of Brave Vesperia and the Commandant of the Imperial knights together well. It'd be a smart match. In ages past, the Emperor used to marry with alliances in mind. It would have a similar effect." He said. 

"M-Marry?" Yuri demanded, wondering if Flynn really had lost his mind. 

"Yes." He answered matter of factly, holding his hand out to help Yuri up. He grimaced at the mess of his cape, but at least it was the inward facing part mostly. 

Flynn laced his fingers with Yuri's and led them both down the cobblestone path, trying not to look at sounds in the shadows and figures in the darkness. He began to remember where they were and what kind of nature an event like Masquerade offered-- and he supposed it wasn't so strange that this had happened when it had. If he was honest and for a moment didn't repress everything, it was easy to see and admit that they had always loved each other. 

"Well, You don't have to think of it like that so seriously at first. We should ah. Court. Properly." Flynn offered. 

"Uh, you're... we're going about that a little backwards, aren't we? " Yuri swallowed his dark notions as best he could, a part of him still sure that Flynn would find a good woman someday-- and now he realized that maybe he had been wrong all of this time and didn't know how to process it. 

Standing there in the shadows, not being a part of the festival mob in the square but not exactly being separate from it felt liminal-- that when they crossed into it, they were crossing a threshold into something else entirely. 

It was easy to say something like what had happened between them was dismissable. It was just sex. It was something that most men their age didn't think twice about. It felt almost silly that it would be what was responsible for coalescing their long neglected and desperately denied feelings for each other. Yuri let Flynn keep hold of his hand and arm, even when he started walking up the path towards the Noble Quarter and the palace. For once, he wasn't interested in running or thinking that he would only ever enter via the lattice and the window. 

The silence stretched on for a while until it was finally almost quiet, the sound of the revelers far away. Finally, Yuri spoke again. "I'm not going to marry you." 

Flynn froze, his heart hammering in his rib cage. He looked as though he'd taken a physical blow. Blue eyes flashed up to try to sweep over Yuri's expression, trying to understand. Well, maybe Yuri wasn't the marrying type. It wouldn't surprise him. 

"Not for politics. That had better not be why. You got it?" Something like relief set in and Flynn nearly crumpled to his knees. 

"I... of course not. That was. Well. It was insensitive and-- and I only meant it as justification for something... I already want anyway." He tried to clarify. Yuri laughed. 

"I know, Flynn." 

"So... Maybe?" Yuri shook his head. This kind of thing wasn't something he'd ever imagined being a part of. He shrugged and walked up the steps, forcing Flynn to follow him. 

"First, you're gonna put me to bed in your fancy, soft feather bed. Then I'm going to take a bath in the morning, and eat breakfast in your fancy soft feather bed." He announced simply. "Then we'll talk." 

"Alright. Fair enough." Yuri laughed again on his way up the stairs, still exhausted but feeling light as air. He knew Flynn would follow him. He always did.


End file.
